


If This Is The End...

by Virago77 (PriPri)



Series: Prompts, Pleadings and Prezzies, Oh My! [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Incest, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PriPri/pseuds/Virago77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Sam and Dean are meant to stop the apocalypse, Dean means to make what could be their last night on earth together, one that they will both remember for an eternity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If This Is The End...

**Author's Note:**

> I've gone back in and tweaked the original ficlet; however it remains un-proofed/beta'd so any mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out.

The original Tumbler Prompt fill can be found here:  [If This Is The End](http://virago77.tumblr.com/post/63890723123/could-you-write-me-a-nice-fluffy-smut-dean-being)

 

* * *

 

**If This Is The End…**

 

 

This was going to be a night Sammy remembered forever.  It would be their first and probably their only time.  They were trying to stop the apocalypse and either one or both of them would die trying.  They had been dancing around this thing between them for years, only acknowledging that it _was_ something after they had buried their father.  It was a slow build of gentle touches, to comforting one another when they slept, to not so gentle touches, kisses.  It hadn’t moved past that because it had frightened them both.

 

But Dean wasn’t afraid of it anymore, and he knew Sammy wasn’t either.  Once you got tapped to stop the apocalypse, what was there to be afraid of anymore?  So Dean booked them the best room David Fitzpatrick’s credit card could afford, and had it set up with candles and champagne and flowers, because Sammy loved all the girly, chick-flick crap.

 

Needless to say Sammy was gob smacked when he walked into the candlelit room.  “Dean…really?” Sam asked, eyebrows arched.

 

“Shut up you big girl; you know you love it.” He grumbled.

 

Sam was hard pressed to hide the grin.  And Dean dropped his duffle, pulled the bag from Sam’s shoulder and pulled his brother—his everything—into a passionate kiss.  Sam immediately responded to the kiss, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist.  Dean’s intent was evident in the kiss, and Sam pulled away breathless and licking his lips.  He pressed his forehead to Dean’s, “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.” Dean breathed.  “I want this.  I want this with you…do you?”

 

“Yes Dean, I’ve wanted it forever; I’ve just been too afraid—”

 

“You never need to be afraid with me.  I’ll take care of you Sammy…always.”

 

Sam nodded and let Dean take control as he always had.  Sure, Sam was the brains of their outfit, but Dean was always the leader.  Sam had always followed Dean in their younger years and he always would.  He knew that no matter what, Dean would always care for him.  Maybe it was selfish of him to rely on Dean in like he did, but Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

So Sam allowed Dean to move them deeper into the room and begin disrobing them.  Sam tried to help but Dean only batted his hands away.  Sam laughed between kisses and nips.  Dean was devouring his lips and moving down his chin, his neck, leaving his mark along his collar bone and throat.  “Dean, please.” Sam pleaded.

 

“Don’t worry Sammy, I’ll take care of you.” Dean promised before maneuvering them to the bed.

 

Dean rested over Sam and took his time undressing them both.  When his brother was naked beneath him, Dean took the time to worship every inch of his body with his lips and tongue.  He started at his chin and worked his way over his throat and chest, stopping to run circles around his nipples with his tongue.  Sam groaned and arched into his touch and Dean took one erect peak between his teeth and tugged on it gently.  Sam cursed quietly as Dean moved on, kissing along his sternum then veering off to the side and nibbling along the line of his ribs.

 

Sam grabbed a handful of Dean’s hair as he worked his mouth down his stomach, his tongue dipping into his navel.  Sam’s hips bucked up and the head of his hard length bumped against Dean’s chin.  It caught Dean’s attention and he immediately moved down to give his brother what he wanted.

 

Dean wasted no time with teasing.  He lick up the stream of precome leaking from the head of Sam’s swollen cock and then proceeded to swallow him down.  Sam cried out Dean’s name and tightened his grip in his hair.  Dean hollowed out his cheeks and let Sam fuck up into his mouth, taking him deep into his throat.  When Sam pushed as deep as he could go, Dean held his hips steady and swallowed around him.  That was all it took to set Sam off and he was coming with a cry, filling Dean’s mouth with his salty release.

 

“Fuck!” Sam groaned and pulled Dean up to his lips by his hair.  He devoured Dean’s mouth, tasting himself on his tongue and feeling his dick twitch with renewed interest.  “I wanna returned the favor.” He breathed between kisses.

 

“Next time Sammy,” Dean said, “tonight is all about you.” He said as he pressed a slick digit against Sam’s puckered opening.  Sam squeaked and jerked into the touch.  He didn’t even know when Dean had time to find the lube, let alone coat his fingers with it.

 

Dean snatched his lips along Sam’s teasingly as his index finger teased along the outside of his rim before dipping inside.  Just to the first knuckle, until Sam’s hips lifted up and the whole of his finger was swallowed by the velvety heat.  He took his time, fucking into Sam with that one finger, until his lover was quivering beneath him and begging for more.  That’s how it went until he had three fingers pressed inside Sam’s tight cave and the younger man was begging to be taken, to be fucked, to—“ _More, please, Dean more!”_

 

So Dean carefully removed his fingers from Sam’s clasping tunnel, earning him a whine of disappointment.  He kissed Sam quiet as he squirted lube in his hand and coated his cock with the slick substance.  Dean’s teeth tugged on Sam’s bottom lip as he lined himself up ad pressed forward until the mushroom-shaped head of his penis slipped inside the tight clutch of Sam’s body.

 

Sam let out a noise that Dean couldn’t identify and he froze in place, afraid that he had hurt him.  Sam’s fingers gripped Dean’s hips, digging in, drawing blood.  “Don’t stop, Dean.  Please don’t stop.” He begged and Dean complied.  He inched his way forward slowly until he bottomed out.  He groaned at the feeling of being fully inside Sam and was loathed that he couldn’t get deeper.  If he could, he would stay permanent in this moment where he was buried so deep inside Sam that he didn’t know where he ended and Sam began.

 

But he couldn’t stay like that forever and of their own volition, Dean’s hips began moving.  They moved back just a little, and then pushed back in slow and deep.  “Yes!” Sam cried and that was all the encouragement Dean needed.  He continued his slow strokes, going deeper with each push until Sam wrapped his legs around his waist and began arching up meeting him trust for thrust.

 

Dean changed his angle and he knew by Sam’s cry and the stutter of his hips that he had found his prostate.  He continued in that position until Sam began babbling, mostly incoherently, but sometimes a clear wish coming through, like, “Wanna come—make me come.  Fuck—God—Dean!  Touch me, please!”

 

So Dean leaned his weight on one elbow and reached between them to stroke Sam’s turgid length.  Sam cried out the moment Dean’s hand came in contact with him and the cursing became even more colorful.  It was all Dean could do to keep from coming himself.  Between the feel of Sam wrapped around him and the sound of his filthy, dirty demands, he was one curse away from letting go and spilling inside of him.  But this was about Sam, not him.  If this was the only chance they had to be together, he wanted it to be good for Sam—he wanted it to be the best for Sam.  So Dean thought of mundane things, like hunting Wendigos, to stave off his orgasm.  Until, with a push against his prostate, a twist of his wrist and a brush of his thumb against Sam’s slit, he came with a shout, coating Dean’s hand and both their bellies in milky ropes of come.  Seconds later Dean was coming too, filling Sam with his seed; marking him with his essence.

 

It took him a few minutes to return to awareness.  They were on their sides and Sam was kissing him, “Thank you, Dean.” And “So, good,” he was murmuring.  And that was exactly what Dean had planned.  It was meant to be good for Sam, just in case they didn’t have another chance.

 

Together they let their heart rates even out and fell asleep tangled in other another’s arms.  Forgetting about the world—the latest evil they were meant to stop—until the morning.


End file.
